Imaginary Friend
by Zchocolatebunniesrulezworld
Summary: Nobody can see me!" Mello has never questioned this fact since he was seven years old. Now, three years after meeting Near, Mello starts to wonder WHY nobody can see him; why he doesn't go to school; why bruises keep marring his face...AU MelloxNear.
1. To Be a Friend

**All...righty! Heya!  
Not much to say here, darlings...AU? Eventual MelloxNear? If 'ya don't like it, DO read it so you shall learn the wonders of this beautiful pairing? This won't be too long; six or seven chappies at most, before the slashy sequel? Near's OOC 'cause he's five (I *can* do his character, swear, but there're reasons why he has emotions :D)?  
Also school's an evil midget, so updates'll be rather--not *slow*, but maybe...every week and a half? Can I do it?  
Well, first I need to know if this is worth updating, so a review'd be lovely ^_^**

**--**

"Mihael Keehl! _You get back in this house right now and clean up that mess!_"

"Haha, naa-naa, 'm goin' to Mail's! See 'ya, mum!"

A yellow-and-black blur sprinted away from the threshold of its house where its mother stood, hands on hips and a ferocious scowl battling with an endearing smile on her face. Natasha Keehl knew she should be angry at her son or at least try to discipline him more, but it was so hard when faced with that smiling, carefree, jubilant grin that so often stretched across his face.

So she let him go. Again. And told herself this would be the last time. Again.

The blur in question, seven-year-old Mihael, was in no danger from passing cars. They rarely rolled by on this quiet little street, and Mihael was actually exceptionally bright for his age, too bright not to look both ways before crossing. His mother, aware of both these facts, had no qualms about letting him visit the Jeevas household, which was, after all, just around the corner, across the school playground.

She had no idea that taking that specific route that day would probably pose more danger than a speeding automobile.

Neither, incidentally, did Mihael.

The only thoughts bouncing their way across his mind were those of how to secretly fill water balloons and throw them at his best friend's parents, _without_ his mum later hearing about it. This wasn't likely, seeing as both sets of parents had been friends for decades, but maybe...

Bounding across the park behind his elementary school, his mind was filled with these Deep Thoughts so Mihael didn't think to watch where he was going. He tripped over some unseen object and skidded across the grass, flat on his shocked face.

He lay on the ground for a moment; laughing; exhilarated by falling as he always was, before he decided to turn around and see what it was he'd tripped over.

Mihael did _not _expect to see a little person, maybe two years younger than him, curled up on the ground behind him.

He did _not_ expect the little person to look like a tiny ghost, all clad in white.

He did _not _expect the little person who looked like a tiny ghost to sit up and stare at him with pitch-black eyes.

He did _not_ expect the little person who looked like a tiny ghost and was staring at him with pitch-black eyes to have a mottled purple-and-black bruise covering his eye.

He did _not_expect any of this, but Mihael was _very_ pleased at this new development. This little person could be a friend!

"Heya! Why're you sitting on the ground like that? Your eye's purple, too; that's cool!" Here, rhetoric from his mum kicked in. " 'M sorry for falling over you, but you should try being somewhere where 's easier to see you 'cuz I promise I didn't mean to! I'm Mihael, wha's your name?"

The little person twitched in shock. As he spoke, Mihael could see several holes where teeth should be and a swollen tongue, which garbled his speech a bit. No, a lot. Quite a lot. "Meehlo-Keehla? Meehlo? MeeloMeeloMeelloMehlloMello? Sor-ry?"

"Haha, you're funny! Yeah I'm sorry; I tripped over you! But 's mean to call you 'you' so I should call you by your name! What is it?"

"Sor-ry. Me. My fault." He nodded vigorously, yet Mihael marveled at how it was simultaneously timid.

"Nuh-uh! You were just sitting there!" Mihael got confused often, being a seven-year-old child, but this was completely beyond him.

"No...no! Me! Memememe_me_! Sor-ry!" The boy insistently glared at Mihael, who decided to just let it go.

"O..._kay_, kid. 'S fine, though. I, um, forgive you."

Mihael watched in amazement as this oddball's face transformed into a wide smile, a _cruel_ smile--he thought all smiles signified happiness, but this...

"Ye-es. 'M'fault. Nay-to Reever. NaytoReverNaytreverNayreverNareverNeareverNear."

Mihael, comprehending the thought processes of this "Near", smiled broadly and stuck out his hand to shake. "Nice 'ta meet 'ya, Near!"

Why was Near so afraid? He flinched as Mihael stuck out his hand, then stared, wide-eyed, at it for a moment. "Mel-lo? You mad?"

"Naw, I'm not mad, stupid! You're s'posed to shake my hand! Haven't you ever met someone new before, Near?"

Near's head wobbled from side to side in a shaky 'no'. His hand though, after some hesitation, appeared out of its shrouding white sleeve and tentatively grasped Mihael's own. "Why, Mel-lo? Why shake?"

He refused to let go of "Mel-lo's" hand. Mihael didn't mind; nobody's hand should be that cold, especially on a warm July day like this. "_Well_, Near," he started, reveling in his superior knowledge, "this means we're friends now. Friends play 'n go to each other's houses 'n stuff."

Full of self-importance, he continued. "I've got one friend 'sides from you, Near. He's Mail Jeevas."

"Mailjeevas? MailjvasMaitvasMatavasMatt?"

"Why d'you _do_ that, Near?"

"Do . . . what?"

Mello cocked his head. "Swish around a person's name like cake mix in the bowl? I mean, how'd you get from Mail ta Matt? Or Mihael ta Mello, or Nate ta Near?"

"I . . ." he was hesitant again, afraid, "dunno." Near shrugged, then receded, shrinking into his clothes and training his gaze on the ground.

"Well, 's'cool! 'M sure Mail'd like you. Hey, why don't 'ya come see him? C'mon!"

He pulled Near up by their still-clasped hands, but one look at the expression on his new friend's face stopped Mihael from moving. Near looked _horrified_. "Hey, 's okay, Mail doesn't bite! Well, 'cept for this one time when he bit my mum but it was an accident--he won't bite you!"

"N-no...nobody 'cn see me. _Nobody can see me!_'S not...al-lowed. Jus' Mel-lo, 'kay?"

Children have the peculiar quality of acceptance.

Undoubtedly, had Mihael been four or five years older, he would have insisted on Near meeting his friends. He may have even felt slightly suspicious as to _why_ nobody could see Near.

Mihael was not four or five years older, however, so this new information was met with a casual nod and an "Okay!"

A pause in which each studied the other, completely foreign, new friend.

Mihael did not have the patience for a prolonged silence, however, so he quickly shattered it with a boisterous, "Well, if no one's allowed to see you, we shouldn't stand here! Let's go behind the bushes so if anyone plays on the playground they won't see us, yeah?"

Mihael had no way of knowing this, but his were the first words spoken in kindness to the boy; the first words expressing a desire to put _Near's_ needs above their speaker's own.

Thus, Near felt the irrevocable feelings of love and admiration swamp over him, both as alien as the blond boy who was now dragging him over to the edge of the small field.

Mihael plunked down on the soft grass, pulling Near down too via their joined hands. Sitting together surrounded by deep green undergrowth, the two talked together for what seemed like hours and no time at all.

More accurately, _Mihael_ talked--chattered, actually, like an overexcited sparrow, about anything and everything that popped into his head, while Near stared, awestruck at this new development in his life. Why was Mel-lo so...he had no words for happiness, for being carefree, having never experienced anything of the sort. All Near knew was anger and pain, but Mel-lo showed none of these. _None_.

Near adored this. Adored not having to worry about blunt or sharp objects that could be used to hit him, adored hearing a voice that wasn't shaking in anger or fear, adored seeing a face not contorted in hatred, adored _Mel-lo_.

Mihael was completely ignorant of this utter adoration. He simply recognized Near as someone to brag to, someone who appreciated all his daring escapades. Near gasped in all the right places, gazed admiringly when it was required; Mihael was overjoyed.

"So then Mail'n'I ran away from home! I mean, we couldn'tve stayed, my mum would've killed us. She really really liked that window . . . hey, are you okay?"

Near's eyes had become two shining pits, widening to the size of dinner plates. "You 'c'n run away from . . . h-home?" A dangerous hope crossed his face.

"Yeah, 'course! We ran away for a whole day--Mail'n'I were only five then, though I betchya if we did it now we could stay away for a whole week! Hey..." why had Near's face fell from so hopeful to dejected at that? "You're little'n we were then. 'S okay if you can't make it a whole day. How long d'you think you could run away for?"

_"Forever," _the tiny boy whispered, face mottled with a range of emotions Mihael couldn't begin to decipher.

"But . . . wouldn't you miss your mum?"

"Mum?"

"Yeah! Don't tell me you haven't got one of those, _and_ didn't have a friend, too! Mum's the lady who feeds you dinner and makes you clean your room 'n go to bed at seven when you're _not tired_ and kisses your cut when you fall down! Like that bruise on your eye . . . didn't your mum kiss it better?"

"Nuh-uh," Near's eyes gravitated to the ground again as he continued, "haven't got a mum."

It was like a swelling that started in Mihael's chest and expanded throughout his body, trying to escape out of his eyes. " 'M...sorry you don't have a mum, Near. Your dad can do all that stuff too, though. Ask _him _to kiss your eye better, awright?"

"Mel-lo, 'm not sure if that'll work."

Mihael was getting used to the shock that seemed to envelop him whenever Near spoke. "Near, you've _gotta_ have at least one grown-up taking care of you...you've _gotta_ have a dad if you don't have a mum."

"Yeah..." Near sounded older than his years. "Yeah, I've got one of those. It's just--he might get mad, Mel-lo."

"What? 'Course he won't, you're his kid! Why would he get mad at you if you ask him to help you out?" Near was confusing Mihael more and more by the minute.

"I . . . never mind, Mel-lo. What'd you do when you'n Matt ran away?"

Mihael enthusiastically continued his story with newfound excitment, forgetting momentarily the odd conversation. Though Near drank in every word as if he were dying of thirst, he couldn't help but think.

Mel-lo was smart; Mel-lo had a mum and friends and could run away from home, even just for a bit. Maybe he was right. Maybe Dad wouldn't get mad, maybe he'd fix what he broke in the first place...maybe all Near had ever had to do was ask. If _Mel-lo_ said it would work, and he had been very adamant that it _would..._maybe Near would stop hurting.

He didn't really think of Mel-lo as _real_, actually. He was too good to be true. Maybe he was one of those . . . what were they called? Ain-juls? Yeah, they came out of nowhere and helped people or blessed them or something. Father mentioned them, sometimes, when he wasn't-

A gasp interrupted his musings. "Near, the sun's setting! It was only three when I left! I've gotta go!" Mel-lo sprang up, only then realizing their hands were still joined after all that time. He paused, bent over halfway to accommodate Near's position on the ground while keeping their fingers interlocked. Near's eyes widened as Mel-lo's iridescent ones filled with what he came to recognise as caring. Near was _cared for_; he didn't want today to end; it wasn't fair . . .

"Um . . . Near, will you be here tomorrow? 'S Saturday, so I don't have school then. You _will_ be here, right?"

"I'll try, Mel-lo. 'M not allowed to leave home, but he fell asleep today," _more like staggered onto the couch in a drunken stupor,_ "maybe he'll do it again?"

Remembering the now-familiar bruise marring Near's face at the mention of his father, Mihael forgot his confusion as to why his friend couldn't leave the house.

"Yeah! And don't you forget to ask 'im to kiss your eye better, 'kay? It probably hurts, Near. You're not s'posed to hurt."

Sincerity and care resonated from his tone. That was it; Mel-lo had to be an ain-jul. No other explanation fit.

Happiness washed over him, and Near smiled as he whispered, "'Kay, Mel-lo. I'll ask 'im, and I'll come back tomorrow. Buh . . . buh-bye. Miss you."

Mel-lo--no, he was _Mihael_ now; he was returning to that world--smiled broadly. "You don't have to miss me, Near! Tomorrow's not that far away!"

_But he's wrong . . . nights are the longest; the hardest . . ._

Those thoughts dispelled as Mihael pulled him into a clumsy hug, small arms encircling a smaller waist. "'Bye, Near."

"Goodbye."

Mihael sprinted back from where he'd come (weren't ain-juls supposed to come from the sky?) and just like that . . . he was gone.

The night crept closer like some probing beast out of his nightmares. Trees, once the bright reds and oranges of autumn, took on an ominous shadowed hue. The luminous sphere of fire tinted the sky above his head with deep greens mixed with rose and orange, all surrounded by a bloody red. Blood . . .

Near supposed there was no point to staying here. Father should be waking up soon, and Near had to be home when he did or there would be--_consequences._

_--_

"Hey mum! Guess what?" Of course his muddy shoes had to track all over the just-mopped kitchen floor; of course he had to grab her legs and throw her off-kilter while she bent over the ancient cookbook; of course she loved her son more than anything else in the world.

"What, darling?" What had he gotten up to with Mail this time? Natasha cringed as images of seven-year-old-induced carnage swept across her mind--those two were quite the pair.

"I made a new friend!"

"Oh . . . really? What's their name? How old is your--friend?" She couldn't help the suspicion overtaking her. There weren't many children Mihael's age in the neighborhood that she knew of, aside from Mail and a few girls. If anybody touched a _hair_on her son's precious head . . . This was the reason they left Russia in the first place for this quiet suburban town. Mihael _would_ stay safe from his father's old "contacts", and from the rest of this horrible, twisted world.

"Aw, I dunno--maybe five. His name's Nate but really Near!" Mihael's voice dropped to a low, secretive whisper and his eyes flickered around the room, checking for unwanted listeners. "I'm the only one who can see him. He _said_ so."

Relief washed over Natasha. "Oh, so Near's your imaginary friend, Mihael?"

". . . What's an imaginary friend?" He gazed up with wide, yet--suspicious?--eyes. A fearful look that she'd never seen on her son's face before.

"Well, Mihael, an imaginary friend is what you described. He's not imaginary to _you_, only to the rest of us, because you're the only one who can see him--or her. Is he nice?"

"Yeah! He's real funny . . . kinda weird, too . . . but mum?"

"Yes, Mihael?"

"Don't call me Mihael--I'm Mello, 'kay?" An excited smile transformed his face.

"Mellow? That means you're very calm. Don't you know that word, with all those books you read?"

"_No_," he started with childlike patience (ie nonexistent), "not _mellow; Mello._"

Mihael spelled the name for her. " 'S Near's nickname for me! Oh, and we've gotta call Mail Matt, too!"

"Near sounds creative, Mi--Mello. I like him. Is he here now?"

"No, mom; of _course_he's not. He has a home, too, ya know." Mello rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch. "He doesn't have a mum, though...how does that work? Hope he's happy anyway . . . "

Oh, she loved him so _much_. "Mello, c'mere!"

Natasha leaped onto the couch and enveloped her son in a warm hug, laughing, before tickling him wherever she could reach.

"_Mum!_Stop! Wait--that--tickles! Hahaha! S-stop! Heehee..."

She'd do anything to keep him laughing forever.

--

"Boy, c'mere!"

A beer bottle slammed against the far, dirty wall accentuated his grunt.

Near timidly sidled over; crossed the ratty carpet from where he'd been sitting directly across from the man who'd just spoken. This was his chance to ask; Mel-lo the ain-juhl had to be right about this. "F-father . . . m-my eye."

Sagging into the dingy couch, his father looked up with a belch. "_What? _It's your fault I punched you in the first place. Annoying little snot . . . "

"W-will you . . . " Near felt like shrinking into himself; what he would give to sink into the floor without a trace . . .

"Will I _what?_ Spit it out, boy." That glare looked dangerous, but Near had spent nights without any beatings even when his Father had been angrier.

Now or never. Remember Mel-lo.

"K-kiss it . . . better?"

Dumbfounded silence.

Then, quite articulately, "What the _fuck_? Why the hell'd I do that?" Oh, no. His eyes had a dangerous gleam in their grey depths. Near should have stopped then before he said anything incriminating--something like . . .

" 'Cause...'c-cause I'm not s-supposed t-to--hurt. 'S not fair." Paraphrasing Mel-lo nearly exactly. Would an ain-juhl's words be enough to pacify him?

Apparently not.

Apparently they incited him even further.

Near should have known, especially when father was in the middle of the fifth bottle.

Pain.

Pain.

_Pain._

_--_

**Oh no . . . our poor ickle Nia-chan T_T Let's hope Supermello will save the day!  
...or is this even worth it? Should I go bury myself in a sandbox (I think a kid actually DIED doing that, and he was imitating Gaara from Naruto! And I thought *I* was iNSaNelY oBseSsED...o.O) in shame? Is it the best thing you've ever read (might as well ask :D)?  
I love lovely people!**


	2. To Read

**Hi! Remember this? Which . . . took . . . forever? Gah, life gets in the way. It's not fair.  
In any case, THANK YOU SO MUCH, everyone, for your reviews/favs/alerts! Replies are at the bottom of the page, if you still remember the review from about a month ago DX.**

**--**

Boys under the age of twelve tend to wake up at abnormal hours on weekends. Natasha knew this, having raised one for seven years, but this--this was _ridiculous_.

"Miha--Mello, it's four-thirty . . . in the . . . _morning_," statement punctuated with two jaw-cracking yawns.

"I know, mum! Bye!" Mello hopped off her bed, already changed out of his pajamas, onto the floor and tripped over to the door.

"Do you really have to see Mail--I mean, Matt--this soon? Can't you _wait_, sweetie?" She sat up, hand shoving a mop of tangled blond hair out of her eyes sleepily, and gazed at her son, who frowned in frustration.

"_No_, mum, I'm going to visit _Near_. He said he'd be at the park again today and I've gotta go _see him_, so _bye_."

Oh. That imaginary friend again. Apparently it was a common phase for children (according to her recent late-night internet research), so it was normal for Mello to be obsessing over the friend he'd invented. Still, Natasha thought, this was going too far. Accompanied by moans of "_Muu-uum!_", she prevented Mello from leaving the house until the sun rose, which was about as long as she could hold him back before he sprinted out the door.

--

It had hurt an awful lot to walk over to the park, but, with his dad collapsed on the couch for what looked like would be the rest of the day, Near had decided to try anyway. What if Mel-lo came back? He'd heard ain-juls only visited once, but maybe...

Near's hopes came true. When his sock-clad feet finally slipped behind the bushes of the previous day, a joyful mass hurled itself at him and yelled, "Near!"

Mello was there, _right there_ next to him on the ground (the overenthusiastic greeting had been rather forceful and ended up in a tangle of limbs supported by the soft grass). Near smiled, even though bruises twinged on his arms and legs.

"Hi, Mel-lo."

"Hi!" Mello sat up, pulling Near gently up beside him. "So how was yesterday? Did your dad--oh . . ." He'd seen Near's face which now had a matching bruise over the other eye. "I'm sorry. He didn't kiss it better, did he?"

Near shook his head.

"Well that's not fair!" Mello scowled. "If my mum could see you _she'd_ kiss it better, but now how can we--oh! Close your eyes!" A grin lit up his face.

Near trusted Mello absolutely, which wasn't really the best idea considering what had happened yesterday, but he ignored that nagging memory and slipped his eyelids shut.

It was worth it. Something soft and warm pressed gently against his left, then right eye. After it receded Near kept his eyes closed, reveling in the warm glow that seemed to emanate from what he knew were Mello's lips throughout his body. Mello was right: he _did_ feel better, a thousand million times better.

"There," those lips curled up gracefully, "you're smiling! That means you're all better, right?"

"Mmm," Near murmured happily. He felt better than he ever had in his whole life. He didn't want today to end.

"My mum told me yesterday what you are: an imaginary friend!" Mello nodded vigorously, full of his own importance.

"A what?" Near had never heard the word 'imaginary' but a 'friend' was a boy who tripped over you in a park and started talking to you and kissed your bruises better, so being Mello's friend was the best thing he could think of.

"It means you're my friend, but nobody else can see you. Like what you said yesterday! Isn't that cool? I wish no one could see _me_, then I wouldn't have to go to school and I could scare Matt so much!" He smirked.

A school? Near had no idea what Mello was talking about, which only served to accentuate the differences between their two lives. When he asked what 'school' was, Mello gaped.

"_You really don't? You don't go to school? _Near, you're so lucky!" He then described what a school was, and by the sound of it, Near didn't feel lucky at all. A place to escape from home five days a week, with Mello and Matt there every day, and _learning_? Near wanted to learn almost as much as he wanted to be close to Mello. School sounded like heaven.

" . . . and they make you read baby books even when they're really boring and I'd rather be reading Harry Potter and seeing what that voice in his head is! I think it has something to do with You-Know-Who 'cos of Dobby's warning at the beginning, don't you?"

Again, for what seemed like the thousandth time, Near was at a loss. "Mel-lo, I don't understand. Who's Har-ry Potter, what's a book, and how do you 'read'?"

At this Near actually worried if Mello was okay. His mouth fell open in shock and tried to sputter out a response while his sky-blue eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets. Mello was literally incapable of speaking for over a minute.

What had he _said_?

"Mel . . . lo?" Was he mad? Mello would never hurt him--right?

Finally, after about one minute and twenty-five seconds by Near's meticulous count, Mello managed a choked, "Y-you . . . " before reverting back to silent incredulity.

Eighteen seconds later he closed his eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath, and collected himself. "Near, _Harry Potter's_ a kid in a _book _and you _read _about him. You--don't understand that right now, but don't--don't worry, Near. I'll teach you, 'kay? Wait here." Mello's eyes shone with unshed tears--_tears_? Why was Mello sad about these books? Were they that important to him?

All Near knew was that Mello stood up and with a "be right back," he sprinted back the way he'd came.

Confusion overwhelmed him. What on earth was going on?

Near didn't have to wait for more than several minutes before Mello returned, arms laden with small, thin objects that appeared to be boxes. He was panting heavily as he flopped down beside Near on the grass, spreading out what Near guessed were the "books" as best he could on their laps.

"So Near, these are books," Mello started, opening one at one edge and displaying a colorful picture accompanied by squiggly lines. "They, umm . . . reading is . . . kinda like talking, 'cept you can see it on this paper. See," he pulled Near closer and guided his hand across the squiggles, "each of these little swirls stands for a sound. Like, you know," nn- ee-uhr"--if we put the letters; each swirl is called a _letter; _for 'nn' ''ee' and 'uhr' together, it makes your name! Umm . . ." He gazed seriously into Near's eyes. "D'you get it?"

Near traced the contours of the _letters _reverently with the tip of his pinky finger. "Yeah," he nodded. "What sound does this one make?" A perfect circle undulated underneath the path of his hand.

"That's an 'o'. Like Mell_ooo_, right?"

They both smiled ecstatically as comprehension dawned on the younger boy. "Teach me, Mel-lo."

"I am! This is-- "

"No; I wanna know how to read 'Mel-lo'. And 'friend'. Can you show me?"

Mello nodded enthusiastically. "Don't you want to learn your name, first?"

"No. Mel-lo's, then 'friend', then mine please."

So the lesson continued as Mello traced out 26 shapes that each stood for a different sound into the dirt with a stick and pointed out the "em", "ee", "el", and "oh" again. Near hungrily memorized all of the sounds each letter could make when combined with any other letter. This was _learning_ and it felt . . . _good_. He hadn't know what a book was two hours ago but now--_now _he knew how to spell Mello's name, and had met Harry Potter who was almost like him, but _magical._What if, when Near turned eleven, Hagrid came to take _him_ away to Hogwarts?

_And Mello, too, okay Hagrid? _He asked inwardly. Hogwarts wouldn't be fun if Mello wasn't there.

"Hey, you learned a lot faster than I did. It took me a whole week to understand enough to start reading The Sorcerer's Stone and mum said _that _was smarter than a lot of people! I bet you're a genius, Near." Mello beamed proudly at his words. "Do you want to take some of these home today? You can read them under the covers, that's what I do when I can sneak the flashlight into my room."

Near nodded eagerly, not even attempting to ask what 'covers' or 'flashlight' were in favor of eagerly turning the next page of the book. Mello, watching Near's fingers trace over each word and listening to each word he spoke aloud, helped the smaller boy when he stumbled.

Eventually Mello ended up behind Near, reading the book slowly out loud to him while adding his own comments. The grass was getting the other books all wet but neither of them noticed, too wrapped up in the magical world entered through that open book in Mello's hands.

Near couldn't help a yawn. Mello heard him and, without pausing in his narration, shifted to allow his new friend to lean back against his chest. He was so warm . . . large black eyes narrowed sleepily to slits--he hadn't slept for more than three or four hours last night--and Near fell into a state of half-rest while Mello's voice washed over him melodiously.

Why couldn't life be like this forever? Why did Near have to go home? It just wasn't fair, he knew that now. Mello had showed him how little he really had in life and Near now wasn't content with this; wanted to go to school; wanted to have friends; wanted his own books; wanted a mum . . .

"Hey, Near?" Mello shook his shoulder carefully. "I think I've gotta go home now. Mum's way too paranoid, but if I don't go home when she wants me to then I can't come back . . ."

Near sighed, reluctantly moving away from his friend's warm chest and shuddering as a cold wind swept through the park. "Mel-lo, will you be here t'morrow?"

" 'Course I will!" Mello proclaimed. "It'll have to be way later than today, though, 'cos I have school."

Oh.

Near guessed it would still be okay; after all, he'd survived for years without Mello, what would several more hours do in comparison? Anyway, he had books to read now--_books_, which _Mello _had taught him to read. Mello's fingers probably had skimmed over the very pages in Near's hands now, he'd probably eagerly turned the page to see what happened next, so the books were precious.

As long as his father didn't get ahold of them, Near was sure he'd be fine.

"That's okay, Mello. I--thank you. For teaching me. Thank you." He couldn't express his gratitude in mere words so Near threw his arms around Mello's waist and buried his head into his chest. Mello hesitantly reached his arms around Near, returning the hug before pulling away sheepishly.

Near supposed he had to go, too. If his father woke up and he wasn't there--he didn't want to think about it.

"So I'll see you at three thirty after I do my homework, 'kay? Bye!"

" . . . bye."

Mello grinned before turning and running back to his house, where he had a mum, and homework, and friends . . .

Near closed his eyes in anticipation before exhaling and walking slowly back home.

--

**methegirl - **Ah, hehheh...I didn't exactly update soon, and nothing really happened . . . but updates will be sooner now and I have plans! *smirks* Near-torture and yaoi, coming up! Kind of. They're seven and five :D Thank you for the review!

**hinata0710**- Our wittle Nia-chan has Supermello to protect him, now! And, oops--I meant for their dialogue in the last chapter to make them sound young, but rereading it, it just looked really confusing. Thank you for pointing that out! I hope this was easier to understand...

**ChocolateCrackhead**- Th-thank you . . . for the . . . ahm . . . review? *runs away* don't hurt meee!  
(just kidding :D)

**DizzyIzzy-04**- Oh, thank you! I love when people inflate my ego just to bursting ^___^ vocabulary-comments really do it for me, I just get absolutely insufferable with everyone around me ("Haha, does this random reviewer think _you_have a good vocabulary? I thought not.") Your comment was loverly, and I hope this chapter isn't disappointing *is hiding in corner*

**Celestial Blood**- Maybe...a therapist? Or...an insane asylum? Heehee, you scared me a little with that review! Though it IS kinda fun to torture our little albino midget, isn't it? Oops, I'll be joining you in therapy sessions, now . . . aw, thanks so much though for the revvy!

**im a molly doll**- Yeah, you're right! (...you probably don't remember your review...) Nia's father knows if really any authority found out then Near'd be taken away and he wants to keep him because--well, why _do _abusive parents do this to their children? If they hate their kid so much, get rid of them! Oh god, that sounded horrible...put them in an orphanage instead of beating them up! Maybe there's a reason behind it? . . . I didn't actually think of it XP Let's say Near looks like his mum so Daddy Dearest loves him, but Mummy Dearest died in childbirth so Daddy hates him, too. Or, um, something. In any case, Mello will save Near! Ah, heh. Giant spoiler.

**FluffyDuck-01** - Aw, seeing a review after all this time inspired me to update! Feel special for leaving such an awesome review ^_^ Thank you!  
...and yeah, that poor midget...Gaara really is killing people in real life; his dream is complete! WOW I feel heartless--no, seriously, it is really sad that a kid'd die trying to imitate an manga character. He had his whole life ahead of him . . .


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